The Argosy, September 1915 — page 50: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

264 explained Tom Witherbee, _ rising. “ Let’s go and see.” The breakfast-party followed him into the house, Mr. Witherbee storm- ing noisily at the rear. “There! Look for yourselves, if you don’t believe me!”’ he cried. : Each member of the party, in turn, looked into the coat-closet under the front stairway. A small shelf in a corner had been built to hold six dry cells. It was bare of anything save dust now. Two wire connections pro- jected uselessly from the wall. Mr. Witherbee’s guests looked at each other in silence. “Now, who the deuce would do a thing like that?” said Tom Witherbee tentatively, when the pause had become prolonged. * Who, indeed?” murmured Rosa- lind. She was staring at the empty shelf as if it had a peculiar fascination for her. “What I can’t understand,” said Mrs. Witherbee, “is why a burglar would want to steal the batteries out of a burglar-alarm.”’ “Why, madam?” exploded her hus- band, whirling upon her. “ Why? Anybody knows why! Why does a burglar poison a watch-dog? To keep it from barking. Why does a burglar chloreform a family? To keep ‘em from waking up! Why does he steal the works out of an alarm? To keep the bell from ringing, madam. Lord Harry, it’s plain enough!” “That does sound rather reason- able,” assented Rosalind, still fasci- nated by the empty shelf. “They’re getting ready for a raid, I tell you——a raid on the house!” de- claimed Mr. Witherbee furiously. “ They’re just paving the way. And when they come—by George—there ’Il be nothing to wake us up!” Mrs. Witherbee shivered. ‘“ But, Stephen,” she said, wrinkling her forehead in puzzlement, “if they could get into the house to steal the batteries so as to make ready for a LAE - ARGGSY. raid, why didn’t they raid the house, instead of stealing the batteries? ”’ “That’s a problem, too,” comment- ed Rosalind. “ How do you account for it, Mr. Witherbee? ”’ “Account for it?’ His flashing glance went from his wife to Rosa- lind, then back again. “ Why should I account for it? I’m not a burglar. {t takes a thief to know why! The point is, it’s been done—that’s all.” “It’s cursedly odd,” said Mr. Mor- ton, as he stroked his yellow mustache. Mr. Witherbee glared at his guest, opened his mouth to say something, then made a helpless gesture and re. mained silent. “You just noticed this, asked Tom. “When I went to get a hat.” “Did you ask any of the servants about it? ”’ “No! What would a servant want with an electric battery? If you’re going to ask me if I suspect my serv- ants, I'll tell you no—right now, sir.” “Father’s right, Tom,” said his mother. “ The servants are perfectly trustworthy.” “Of course they’re trustworthy!” snapped Mr. Witherbee. “ They’re also deaf, dumb, and blind—non com- pos mentis and plain dotty. But they’re honest. Anybody might walk in here and steal the plaster off the walls with- out getting caught. Yes, and for all your servants might know, steal you out of bed, madam! ”’ “Mercy, Stephen!” exclaimed his wife faintly. ‘“ Don’t-suggest such a thing!” “We can get more batteries, fa- ther,” said Gertrude soothingly. “ Batteries! Of course we can get batteries. And what’s to prevent any- body from stealing the new ones? “I tell you, the whole neighbor- hood’s overrun with thieves. First it’s us, rung out of our sleep in the middle of the night; then it’s Davidson; then it’s usagain. Now it’s histurn. After that they'll probably steal the island.”’ Rosalind, abandoning her study of dad?” CORNICLOOOKS (C@)